Wanda opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to be awake just yet. It had been so wonderful to have a period of dreamless sleep, and she struggled to sink back into unconsciousness for several minutes before finally giving up.

She stared at the wall, still laying on her side under the blankets, unwilling to leave the warmth of her bed just yet. She stayed like that for quite some time, half-formed thoughts drifting through her sleepy brain.

Eventually, she began to recall the previous night's happenings. Natasha's tea and chat. The Winter Soldier. Meeting Vision in the hallway.

The nightmare.

It certainly wasn't the first one she'd had. Even before Pietro's death, she'd had horrible dreams about loosing him. They had especially picked up during the enhancement experiments, where fear was one of the only constants.

Thinking about the experiments made her feel even worse, and out of habit she forced herself to focus on something else. She had just started to plan what she would wear for the day when she paused.

It's okay to be in mourning. Natasha's words came back to her alongside her tears.

She wondered if there was something wrong with her. Why couldn't she just let herself be upset? She had grieved the loss of her parents for several years, and that grief had fueled her vendetta against Tony Stark for several years. She'd lost before, and had felt that loss in her heart, and had never tried to hide those feelings.

Her thoughts became less sensible the longer she thought about it. Perhaps she was simply emotionally deadened from all of it. Maybe, in loosing Pietro, she had lost the thing that kept her strong and balanced, and now she was just a broken scale.

Maybe she was a horrible person.

She rolled over to watch her alarm clock's numbers blink, the red lines making showing the time as 11:02. She started trying to match her counting to the sixty seconds of each minute. By 11:21, she was in perfect rhythm. By 12:16, she was trapped in a trance, the counting droning through her head.

There was no room for thoughts of anything else in her mind. She couldn't shift her focus, not even for a second, or the rhythm would be broken and she'd have to start all over again. Counting to sixty. Measuring each minute.

The knock at her door forced her to jolt back to reality, and it was with that knock that she lost her perfect count. She forced herself to turn away from the clock, which now read 12: 43, to look towards the door.

"Come in," she said flatly, and sat up, instantly wishing she hadn't. Her head spun and her neck ached from staying in one position for so long.

The door slowly opened, and it was Steve's hesitant face that peered around it. "Hey... Natasha sent me. You been up long?" He offered her a smile.

"Since eleven," she said, and upon seeing the smile drop from his face, realized that this probably wasn't the best answer. She was still in her sleepwear, tucked under the covers, and obviously hadn't moved for nearly two hours. "I tried to fall back asleep," she said quickly, and forced herself not to bite her lip, a habit she always did when she was lying.

Some of the worry faded from Steve's blue eyes and his smile returned. "You missed breakfast, but Natasha said you probably needed the sleep, said you had a long night. We're having lunch right now if you want to join us."

She nodded numbly. "Sure," she answered, despite the fact that she didn't have any appetite. "I'll get dressed first," she added, and Steve gave a nod of understanding and one last smile before quietly closing the door behind him.

She pushed back the covers and reluctantly got out of bed, bare feet touching the soft carpet floor. Her mind was full of thoughts once again as she tugged her jeans on, leaving her pajamas strewn across her bed. 

It didn't take her long to realize that her two hours spent staring at the clock had been the same sort of attempt to distract herself as planning her outfit. Something to focus on and hide behind instead of dealing with the here and now. Another attempt at faking.

She chose a soft grey sweater from her dresser absentmindedly, and spent several minutes focusing on straightening the black lacing in the back. No wonder Steve's smile had dropped. Natasha had said that both of them could see right through her. She'd proven a point by fibbing to him. She was still trying to fake her emotions.

She closed her eyes and tugged the sweater over her head, pushing her arms into the long sleeves. She found the slits in the cuffs and tucked her thumbs through. Pulled her hair out from under the collar.

She glanced up and found her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She quickly focused back on the sweater, adjusting it, but her eyes soon drifted upwards again. She stared at her own face, wondering if the fake face was hiding just underneath. Maybe she was already wearing it.

She decided not to wear makeup today. No masks.

Her gaze lifted to the rat's nest that was her hair, and she quickly began to focus on it. Brushing it through, bringing out the natural loose waves. She brushed for too long, long enough that she realized she was stalling. Yet as soon as she had the thought, she began to part her hair. It took several minutes before she was happy with the intricate fishtail braid down her back.

She again wondered if there was something wrong with her. Why was she so determined to distract herself? To put so much thought into such little tasks that she couldn't focus on anything else?

Even as she had these thoughts, she took her time pawing through her sock drawer, looking for a particular black pair.

Enough, she told herself as soon as she had pulled them on. That's enough. Stop stalling. Her thoughts darkened even further when a quick glance at the clock told her that it was 1:17, and she'd been procrastinating for another thirty minutes.

She forced her feet into motion, slowly walking towards the door. When she placed her hand on the doorknob, a rather large part of her wanted to turn back and check the clock's time just once more. Just once. But she ignored it and wrenched the door open, pushing out into the hallway.

"Good afternoon, Wanda."

She jumped, barely able to stop herself from yelping. For a second, she wondered if Steve had been waiting for her, intending to walk with her to breakfast, but the voice wasn't Steve's, and as she turned she saw that it was Vision who was walking down the hall towards her, a faint smile on his lips.

"Good afternoon," she parroted back, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice. Normally, she wasn't so easily startled, but Vision seemed to make almost no noise when he moved, like Natasha, and Clint when he actually tried.

She'd noticed that he'd started to wear casual clothing recently. He no longer wore his bodysuit and cape every day, but simple pants and jumpers over collared shirts. He was fitting in more and more, becoming part of the team.

Wanda realized she'd been staring at him silently, and quickly dropped her gaze, unsure of what to say. She almost wished she could duck back into her room, claim to have forgotten something, but she had put her foot down. No more procrastinating. No more faking.

"I like your hairstyle."

She glanced back up, surprised, and met his blue eyes. "What--- oh. Thank you..." She reached up to finger the fishtail, rubbing the band securing it briefly.

"It's very intricate," he added, and Wanda latched on to the faint wisp of conversation, desperate for anything at this point.

"It's called a fishtail, it's a kind of braid." She managed a weak smile at his intrigued expression. "I'm guessing you don't have much experience with braiding hair."

"I'm afraid not," he said, tilting his head, smile growing.

She laughed quietly, surprising herself. "Maybe I could show you sometime. Or Clint could. He knows a lot about hair styling."

Vision gave a short chuckle. "I believe he went undercover as a stylist once." He met her eyes again. "I'd like that." She was momentarily confused before he continued. "I'd like to learn how to braid."

Wanda blushed slightly, and wasn't even sure why. She didn't let the silence stretch for very long. "Are you headed to the kitchen?"

"I am, actually. Are you?" At her nod, he gestured down the hallway. "Perhaps we could accompany each other."

"I'd like that," she said, repeating his words with a smile.

They set off at a casual pace, Wanda feeling ridiculous with her arms swinging limply at her sides. She always felt less than graceful around Vision, who always seemed to be poised and perfectly balanced, always so sure.

"I assume that you are excited to see Clint again," Vision said conversationally as they walked, and Wanda nearly tripped over her own feet in surprise.

"What?" She gasped out, putting a hand on the wall to stop herself from face-planting.

"Are you alright?" He looked worried, hands half outstretched as if he didn't know what to do with them.

"I---I'm fine, what did you say, about Clint?"

"Agent Barton arrived early this morning, he is in the kitchen."

The words, said so matter-of-factly, seemed so impossible. "I thought he was at home... his family..."

"He has returned to help Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff train us to be a team," Vision supplied. "Are you sure you're alright, Wanda? You seem unsettled."

"I just... I didn't know he was coming back. I thought..." She trailed off, remembered their last hug and goodbye. She'd cried, of course, and Clint had promised she would be able to come visit the farm, but there had been no mention of him returning.

"It seems as though retirement does not suit Agent Barton," Vision said, offering her a smile.

~~~

Wanda was able to convince Vision that she was fine, and they had set off once again for the kitchen, making small talk here and there. Vision apparently liked to read, and they discussed a book they were both familiar with for a while.

It wasn't long before they reached the doorway and could hear voices. Her heart leapt into her throat when she heard the familiar drawl. She tried to retain her composure as she and Vision entered the kitchen side by side.

He was leaning against the island, facing the doorway. He wore simple jeans and a purple tee-shirt, and Natasha, Steve, and Sam were all gathered around chatting. The second she walked in, his gaze flickered towards her, and a huge grin crossed his face. He opened his arms wide.

Wanda forgot all about retaining her composure and darted forward, right into his embrace. She laughed through joyful tears and he laughed along with her, holding her tightly.

"Missed you, kid." He murmured the words into her hair, softly enough that the others wouldn't hear.

"I missed you, too," she whispered back, immensely glad she hadn't worn her usual eye makeup. She would have looked like a raccoon. When she finally pulled back, they smiled at each other.

"Heard you and Tasha have been having fun," he said, tickling her nose with the end of her braid.

She giggled and swatted at his arm, feeling more like a kid than she had in years.

"Us ladies have to stick together," Natasha said from her seat on the counter, playfully kicking Clint's shoulder.

Clint batted at her, laughing, and managed to maneuver Wanda so that she was leaning against the island with him, tucked under one of his arms.

"Well, it's good to be back. Can't wait to start your training," he said, giving her a nudge.

"I didn't even know you were coming back," Wanda said quietly.

"Neither did we," Steve put in, smiling.

"Yeah, this crazy guy right here broke into the facility at six in the morning and made us breakfast. Surprised us all." Sam shook his head. "How he got past all of the security, I'll never know."

"I'm stealthy," Clint supplied, and they all laughed.

Wanda highly doubted that Natasha had been unaware of Clint's plan to return, but she felt better knowing that everybody else had also been in the dark.

"Speaking of training, we all have fittings for gear today." Steve glanced over at the clock on the wall, and it took a good deal of Wanda's willpower not to follow his gaze. "They're at three and they need everybody down at the training hall."

"That gives us plenty of time to hang out," Clint said to Wanda, winking. "You still owe me a game of chess."

"We're going out for a run, so we'll see you there." Steve and Sam were both dressed in running clothes and waved as they exited the kitchen, quickly lowering their voices once they were out the door.

Wanda took a slow breath, still tucked against Clint's side, feeling relaxed and genuinely happy. She knew she wasn't faking those emotions, and she hoped nobody thought that she was.

She was glad to have Clint back.

~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE

~~~

Clint's back!

Since there are several things that aren't revealed in the MCU movies, there will be a certain amount of guesswork in this fic. Some of it will be comic based, and some of it will be based on the actors. Things like Wanda's birthday and Clint's past as a makeup artist are based on the actors. Get ready for Wanda to have weird thumbs.

This is definitely a slow fic, building up to everything in the long run. Hopefully I've fed you enough Vision interaction in this chapter to keep you hooked. He's definitely a texture person and he's totally amazing at doing hair, fite me.

Hope you enjoyed, look for the next chapter soon (hopefully next week)! It'll be mainly Wanda and Clint based, and mostly fun. Mostly.

~~~